


Maybe All Along...

by jamesilver



Series: Drarry Trashy Tropes [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Sexual Content, also tw for, and then lets get to the trigger warnings, anyway i uhh hope yall like it i love you, cause y'all know me i always write that, enchanted objects, is there a tag for like, its a holiday special, not a ton of fluff tho sorry yall, oh also ginny x luna is mentioned, ooooh, other characters are mentioned but not in really any significant way, see the notes for more on the TWs, there isn't quite smut but there is, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesilver/pseuds/jamesilver
Summary: It was Christmas Eve and Draco was interrupted by the fireplace next to him beginning to splutter and spit before coughing out a man covered in soot.Draco stared. He thought the Ministry had disconnected all the floos in the house. Then, he actually looked at the man and couldn’t decide if he was angry or if he was just going to laugh at his misery.“Potter?”Harry blinked. “Malfoy?” Then, he laughed. “Haven’t seen you in years. Look, I stepped out the floo cause I—an drunk. And I gotta...puke. So it seems you’ve got some lovely important papers on the floor and I wouldn’t wan’ to puke on ‘em, so either that’s gonna happen, or you could show me to someplace where I can—“ He paused and Draco did not like the shade that he was turning so he grabbed Potter by the elbow and walked him quickly out of the study and around the corner to a bathroom.Harry stumbled into the room, retching immediately in the toilet.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (side)
Series: Drarry Trashy Tropes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1349764
Comments: 4
Kudos: 136





	Maybe All Along...

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third installment in "Drarry Trashy Tropes". If you like this take some time to read the other trashy aus and subscribe for anything that follows. Thank you!
> 
> PLEASE READ::::TW:::::past reference to domestic abuse--see end notes for more information   
> ALSO::::TW::::mention of child abuse--see end notes for more information   
> ALSO::::TW::::mention of homophobia--NOT FROM ANY OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS but to harry, mostly  
> ALSO::::CW::::Harry and Draco have sex when neither of them are sober  
> ALSO::::TW/CW:::there is quite a bit of drinking and draco mention his is "bordering on alcoholism"

It was only the second bottle of wine for the night. But hey, there was no around to tell him to slow down. He put the bottle down, picked the glass up, turned and leaned against the counter and sighed, staring into the glass. 

Nope. No one to tell him to slow down. And he sure wasn’t going to tell himself. Because Draco was entirely and utterly alone. On Christmas Eve. 

He had always hated the winter holidays, wearing stuffy dress robes that were scratchy and starchy. He didn’t know why the Christmas robes were always the worst—probably because growing up he’d only wear them once a year so even though they were bought with his particular measurements, they never fit just quite right. 

His parents seemed to always get in a fight sometime over the Christmas holidays and then, of course, there were the years when coming home for the winter meant seeing the Dark Lord.

There was that time he spent it at Hogwarts...Everything had been decorated so wonderfully. 

In a teary mimic of a cheers, Draco drank down the rest of the glass before pouring another and walking out of the kitchen with both glass and bottle in his hand. 

He had been doing this a lot tonight: drinking and wandering the large and empty manor. It was fucking freezing no matter what he did and he was bundled in a muggle jumper that he would never let anyone know he owned. He had to admit that it was just better for when you were cold  _ indoors. _ No one wanted to wear big fancy robes in their own home. 

The room that made him stop and linger, staring at the doorknob, was his father’s study. 

He hadn’t been in there since...Well, to tell the truth he hadn’t been in there in years. 

Never had the courage. Not since he went in when he was seven and it was the first time his father struck him. There had only ever been two times in Draco’s life since then that he’d really considered entering that room: once when he had a stupid, childish need to talk to his father after being given his ultimate assignment from the Dark Lord and earlier tonight. 

Hence why he had gone back for the second bottle. He was not going to enter this room for the first time in nearly two decades sober. 

With a preparing breath, Draco opened the door to the study. 

The Ministry had decided they were done with it years ago, leaving everything torn open, parchments strewn across the floor, a curtain with a few of its rings broken off. Draco had peeked inside the day after the Ministry told him it was no longer under investigation—the last room the house to be so—but he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. His mother had, though. And Draco had assumed she had cleaned it up. He didn’t know why he had assumed that. 

It was this last room that provided the evidence needed to shift his father’s sentence from twenty years to life. Other than giving his own testimony, Draco remained willfully ignorant of the rest of the goings on of the trial. A few people had questioned him about that, wanting to know how he could still care for his father so much to ignore the bad things he had done. And Draco had told them that wasn’t it at all. Why should he care what happened in some man’s trial? That man wasn’t anyone he cared about, that was for sure. That man wasn’t his father. 

Draco now walked into the study, stepping on parchments as he went, and he wondered what his mother had done all that time she spent in here. It wasn’t like he could ask her, was it? 

Setting the wine on the large desk, Draco sat down in the chair and looked around the room. What had his father done in here? Had he killed anyone in this room? 

This was a recurring thought of Draco’s—both tonight and also randomly at times. He would enter a room and wonder, was someone murdered in this room? 

How many times had his father cast the killing curse? Was someone tortured in this room? Had his father told other people to go kill someone from this room? Did the Dark Lord ever sit in this chair?

At that one, Draco jumped up. There were some questions that were just too much. 

Wondering what could be left, Draco began opening drawers in the desk. 

Most were empty, Draco guessing that their contents were either currently on the desk or the floor, or had been pulled as evidence and now sat spelled away somewhere inside the Ministry. It wasn’t like Draco cared and it wasn’t like he was curious about those. He just wanted to see what was left. 

It was like some person was always still looking for signs of humanity in his father. Not for his father’s sake, of course, but for Draco’s own. 

And there in the bottom drawer, he may have found it. 

It was the only thing in the drawer: a necklace. Draco recognized it vaguely from his childhood, but knew his father hadn’t worn it in years. It was a family heirloom, given by his mother to his father. It was a gift of love. 

Fitting that his father had left a symbol of his love for his wife forgotten in a drawer. 

In some strange broken-heartedness for his mother, Draco picked up the necklace and put it on. Narcissa had told Draco about the tradition behind this necklace. She had given it to her husband in the first year of their marriage, after their biggest fight. It was supposed to be a symbolic peace offering and reminder of their love. After the biggest fight they had ever had, they would reassure themselves with this necklace that they had survived that first terrible fight and would survive the others.

Draco pressed his palm against it, trapping it between his hand and his chest, trying not to cry for his late mother. 

He was interrupted by this fine moment of grief by the fireplace next to him beginning to splutter and spit before coughing out a man covered in soot. 

Draco stared. He thought the Ministry had disconnected all the floos in the house. How would they have forgotten this one? 

Then, he actually looked at the man and couldn’t decide if he was angry or if he was just going to laugh at his misery. 

“Potter?” 

Harry blinked. “Malfoy?” Then, he laughed. “Haven’t seen you in  _ years. _ Look, I stepped out the floo cause I—an drunk. And I gotta...puke. So it seems you’ve got some lovely important papers on the floor and I wouldn’t wan’ to puke on ‘em, so either that’s gonna happen, or you could show me to someplace where I can—“ He paused and Draco did not like the shade that he was turning so he grabbed Potter by the elbow and walked him quickly out of the study and around the corner to a bathroom. 

Harry stumbled into the room, retching immediately in the toilet. 

Leaning against the doorframe, Draco rolled his eyes. “ _ Lumos, _ ” he said, so at least the bloody savior wasn’t throwing up in the dark. 

After a minute or so, Harry laid his head on his arm, looking up at Draco in the doorway. 

“Draco Malfoy,” he said. Or, slurred, rather. Damn, he really was drunk. “Ha’nt seen you in years. Your hair’s longer. It’s sexy.” 

Utterly confused, Draco said, “What?” But as he did, Potter began to sit up and promptly passed out, narrowly missing hitting his head on the foot on the tub. 

Draco tossed his hands up. “Merlin, why me?” He muttered. “Why fucking me?” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco stepped out to go find his wand, leaving the savior of the wizarding world unconscious on his bathroom floor. Probably with vomit in his hair. 

When Draco returned with his wand, Harry was still out.

He bent over him and cast Aguamenti, letting water pour over Harry’s face. 

Potter jolted awake, sitting up frantically and looking like he was grasping for his wand. Then, he saw Draco and blinked repeatedly. "Hey," he said. 

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and then realized he had no reason to do that. "Get up, Potter. Let's get you home." 

He half-dragged, half-walked Harry back out of the bathroom and into the study where the only working floo seemed to be. It wasn't until they got there that Draco realized since there were no working floos in the house (besides this one  _ apparently _ ), there was also no floo powder. 

Glancing at barely-standing, drunk-smiling Harry Potter next to him, he knew he couldn't let the man attempt to apparate himself back home. It would somehow end up in the papers that it was Draco's fault: "Ex-Death Eater Secretly Still Working Plan to Kill Harry Potter, Splicing Him During Apparition."

Quickly, Draco began to run through his options. He couldn't side-along Potter because he didn't know where to take him. They didn't know anyone in common, really, so there wasn't anywhere that Draco could take him. Not until he sobered up.

Ah, that was it! A sobering potion. 

Leaving the study, Draco paused a moment to point a finger at the drunk wizard standing in front of the fireplace. "Stay." 

He walked out of the room, practically running around the house looking for sobering potions. First he checked the potions cabinet and then, finding it out, his mother's old stores, to which there was also nothing. 

In the end, he even tried an accio, but was still left empty handed. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." 

Returning back to the study, Draco found it—to his horror—empty. This night was only getting worse and worse. 

It didn't take him long to find Harry once more slumped over the toilet. 

With bleary eyes, Harry looked up at him. "Hey, angel, d'you think it'd be possible for me to get glass of water? Maybe not poured on my face this time?" 

Draco sighed. Looks like he was dealing with a drunk Potter tonight. "Alright, come on," he said and Harry followed him to the kitchen. 

When they got to the kitchen, Harry sat down with his back against the cabinets and waited patiently until Draco handed him a glass of water. Before Draco let go of it, however, he said patronizingly, "Now, please do remember, Potter, this is made of glass and I don't really feel like cleaning up glass tonight, so could you please be careful?" 

Harry nodded and as he began to drink, Draco sat down across from him, his back against the kitchen island. 

After a minute, Harry set the empty glass down next to him and closed his eyes, leaning back for a moment. 

Draco grabbed his wand and cast an accio, bringing some mouthwash flying into the kitchen. He nudged Harry's knee to get him to open his eyes and Harry took the mouthwash silently, standing to spit in the sink when he was done. But then he sat back down. And he kept his eyes open this time. Just...staring at Draco. 

"Is there anywhere I can take you, Potter?" 

"Floo?" 

"No powder. Thought the Ministry shut them all down." 

"Apparate?" 

"Where am I supposed to take you? Besides, I'm a little drunk myself and I don't think either of us want to be spliced together." 

"Car?" 

Draco gave him a level look. "Do you I look like I have a car, Potter?" 

Harry shrugged. "You're wearing a cable knit jumper. Seems like you're more open to muggle things than you used to be. Sobering potion?"

"Fresh out. Takes three hours to brew a new one. And by that time it'll be five in the morning." 

"Couch?" 

For a moment, Draco considered, trying not to give an aggravated sigh. 

"I know, I know," Harry began. "I'm really sorry I happened to step out in your floo. They just make me nauseous when I'm sober even so going through it this drunk, I knew I wasn't gonna make it. My bad. But I can try and apparate to get out of your hair." 

Draco held his hand out to stop Potter from standing up. "No, no. That's ridiculous." 

"Since when did you get nice?" 

"Fuck you." 

"Ah, there's Malfoy." 

"You know, I've actually always been fairly nice. Just not to you. You don't have to be nice to everyone just because you're able to. If you do that, people walk all over you. Take yourself for example. In school, you had all this sass, but now you're the Wizarding World's Saviour Turned Doormat." 

"Excuse you?" 

Draco crossed his arms. "It's true. I can't go anywhere without seeing you in the headlines, all the things that you're constantly roped into doing. Aren't you an auror? Don't you have a job to do? And yet, you're always being dragged into charity event after charity event and spotlight after spotlight which we all know you aren't willingly, Potter. You can say no. We all know you hate being in the spotlight. And yet I see you in every headline. Congrats on  _ Witch Weekly's Sexiest Wizard _ award. Again." 

"You don't understand. I can't just say no. Everyone is expecting something from me, wanting something from me." 

Draco scoffed. "I mean, I'd hardly say everyone. All  _ I _ want from you is to get out of here." 

Harry rested his chin on his knee as he looked at Draco. "Well, we already determined that isn't likely for a few more hours. So why don't you stop being upset about it? Can't do anything about it? Might as well get as drunk as I am." 

"You know what?" Draco stood up. "You're right." 

Instead of heading back to the study to pick up the abandoned wine bottle, Draco went to the liquor cabinet instead, picking out for himself something that would get him sufficiently drunk rather quickly and not bothering with a glass. He returned to his position across from Potter on the kitchen floor. 

After a moment of consideration, he held out the bottle. He knew it was a bad idea consider Harry was already throwing up and passing out, but he didn't want to be  _ rude. _

That thought almost sobered him up: he didn't want to be  _ rude _ to Harry Potter? Okay, maybe he was already more into the alcohol than he had thought. 

Potter waved the bottle off, shaking his head. 

"Sorry," Harry said. "It's not that I don't appreciate it; I just don't feel too good after throwing up. And I really wasn't that drunk to puke and everything. Really, it's the floo. Ever since I was a kid, it's made me super nauseous. Which kind of sucks, really, cause whenever I go out drinking, I can't apparate home and so I have to take the floo unless someone side-alongs me. So most of the time, even if I haven't been really really drinking, if I have enough to get me a little tipsy, I throw up when I get out of the floo. But I will admit," Here, he stopped and looked Draco dead in the eyes. "I am well past tipsy."

Draco laughed. "Considering you called my hair 'sexy,' I would agree that you're definitely not sober." He sighed, setting the bottle down and leaning his head back. "So what's got Golden Boy down enough to get drunk on Christmas Eve?" 

"Could ask you the same thing, you know?" 

He closed his eyes, laughing again, but far less genuine now. "Take a look around, Potter. What do I have that isn't worth drinking until I'm out of my mind?" He waited a moment. "Your turn."

Harry was quiet for long enough that Draco sat up straighter, opening his eyes as he watched and waited for a response. But Potter was staring at the floor. 

"I just thought by now that I'd have a family." 

Draco stayed silent, waiting for Harry to elaborate. Minutes passed, but elaborate he eventually did. 

"It's not that I don't have people in my life. Of course, I have the Weasleys and Ron and Hermione and all my friends. And I'm always welcome at the Burrow, of course. But things have just changed over the years. I'm not a kid anymore, right? And Ron and Hermione are married and just had their second kid and all of the rest of the Weasleys are married. 

"It kind of feels more and more like I'm intruding on their family each year—which I know is fucking stupid because Molly considers me just as much her son as every redhead in the room. But it's just different. The only one who doesn't have kids besides me is Ginny. And the only reason Ginny doesn't have kids yet is because she and Luna are waiting until they find the right donor, apparently. I'm the only one not married. It just feels like I should be by now. 

"Not that it's an external pressure, either. None of the Weasleys are pressuring me—well, Molly does ask with a weird little secret smile how I'm doing these days in that big empty house, nudge nudge, and we all know she means if I'm seeing anyone, but really there's no pressure. It's just that..." Harry took a deep breath, staring at his hands. "Well, it's that I  _ want _ a family. I want someone to sleep next to and I want— _ I really really want _ —to be a dad. And everyone else these days, we all spend Christmas Eve with our families and Christmas Day all together. Of course, Ron and Hermione invited me to spend Christmas Eve with them, but I did that last year and just felt weird. So I'm all alone on Christmas Eve. And it just makes me fucking sad, so I drink." 

He looked back at Draco now. "Fucking happy, Malfoy?" 

Until that last line, Draco had been feeling sorry for Potter. But then he had to end it on an antagonistic note and Draco just got fucking angry as hell. "Oh, fuck you. At least you have the people you do have. You know who I have? Let's see. After the trials, all my friends scattered to the winds and because of everything that happened, I couldn't make new friends if I tried—and believe, I have tried. My mum's been dead two years now and, oh, I guess I've got my dad. You know, the abusive murderous Death Eater who's in Azkaban for the rest of his life. 

"And if you wanted someone, Potter, you could fucking have anyone! You're Harry fucking Potter! You could find a date. Last time I went on a date was a year after the trial. I thought it would be safe because he was an American. But then he still found out about my past and left me—oh, not before literally beating me. 

"And I can't date muggles because every time I've attempted to interact with muggles, I risk breaking the statute of secrecy because I don't know how to fucking act around muggles! I can't even handle the money right—they look at me like I'm fucking insane. But you know enough about the muggle world that if you didn't want some witch who knows you as Amazing Harry Potter, you could go date some muggle girl! But, oh, cry me a fucking river, Potte, because you don't have anyone." 

With each word, Draco could feel the anger building in himself and he liked it—his life had been a drone of monotony for years now and finally, here he was going to have a fight. Because how could it not be? A good, classic Potter/Malfoy fight. That would make him feel alive again. 

But Potter didn't start yelling in return. Didn't pull out his wand and jinx him. Instead, Potter's eyes welled with tears. 

"Wow, Malfoy, you're so right." 

Draco felt like ice water had been poured over him. "Excuse me?" 

"You're right. I'm so sorry. That must be terrible. You know, I thought about you over the years, here and there. But I had always assumed you were doing just fine. And then, a few years ago when I heard your mum died, I had wanted to reach out...But I knew, of course, that I would be the last person you would want to hear from. I had just assumed you had Parkinson or Zabini or Goyle or someone." 

"No," Draco whispered, breaking eye contact. "No, they all moved away. Gone to start over in different countries." 

"Why didn't you?" 

"Can't bring myself to. And part of me feels like this is just my penance. This is the life I deserve now. And I couldn't handle it if my past followed me other places. If I thought I had finally escaped it and had a life and something happened to me again. At least here, I know upfront why everyone hates me. No one pretends it's a secret."

Harry scooted closer on the kitchen floor. "You didn't report him, did you?" 

Tears in his eyes, Draco scoffed. "What good would reporting him do? Aurors are meant to catch dark wizards and  _ I'm _ the dark wizard in that case, right? Doesn't matter about right or wrong because I am always in the wrong." 

Harry placed a hand on Draco's shin. "He was in the wrong. What he did was wrong. No one should ever do that to you." 

"I appreciate that, Potter, but it was a long time ago. Doesn't matter now." 

Sitting back, Harry slowly pulled his hand away. "You were a little bit wrong, though. I can't really just...go date whoever. Yes, part of it was what you mentioned about everyone in the wizarding world seeing me as The Harry Potter and not just myself. And to be fair, I have had my fair share of muggle dates. But firstly, it's so strange dating someone and having to hide such a large part of yourself—I hate it. And also...I just have to be really careful who I date. Cause of the press." 

"Oh, don't even give me that you can't find someone who is able to handle the stress of all the following you have and—“

"No," Harry cut him off. "I have to be able to find someone who is okay with the press never finding out. Which means no public dates. No holding hands in public. No accompanying me to the stupid charity events I have to go to. And, historically, that has in fact made many run off." 

Draco stared at him, confused. "I don't understand." 

"I once ended up in the background of a muggle photo that was circulating and in that photo, my scar was clearly visible while I was in the middle of kissing some guy. Some guy being my muggle boyfriend at the time." 

Completely forgetting the way they usually interacted with one another, Draco gaped at the man sitting across from him. " _ You're gay?! _ " 

"No," Harry said. "I'm bisexual. But I definitely have a preference for men. I find myself continually with men more than with women. And after that photo started circulating in muggle circles, some people in the Ministry found out about it and I was informed that it couldn't get out. Not in the wizarding world. That no one could know." 

Now Draco was feeling anger for an entirely different reason. It was strange because he was always so used to feeling angry  _ at _ Potter, but never angry  _ for _ Potter. 

"I'm sorry, but fucking why exactly?" 

Harry laughed. "Well, even though it was decriminalized a little after the war, there's obviously still a lot of homophobia and discrimination. I'm often used a prop these days and it would say a lot about a lot of different people if I suddenly were to come out. Basically, it would reflect negatively on a lot of people politically. And also probably change the way that I'm treated. Not saying that that's anything important or—I’m gonna stop talking. I'm drunk rambling." 

"Hey, I get it." Draco sighed. "If I wasn't already blacklisted everywhere for my past, I would be deeply in the closet as well." 

"Yeah, but it's not like you're out, exactly." 

Draco crossed his arms. "Well, yes, I do like the few opportunities I do have. But, Potter, I can barely go out in public as it is. I get harassed everywhere I go so trying to make friends or go on dates is completely out of the question. I can't even remember the last time I wasn't drinking alone or the last time I had sex." 

Silence lingered between them and Draco wanted to smack his head against a wall. Mentioning sex in front of Potter, what was he thinking? 

"Well, you're not drinking alone now, are you?" Harry said, picking up the bottle. 

Draco put his hand on top of Potter's, not noticing what he was doing while he spoke, "Yeah, I thought we already agreed you've had enough." 

But then they both paused, staring at Draco's hand on top of Harry's. 

Quietly, Harry said, "I can't remember the last time I had sex, either." 

Brain nearly broken, Draco snapped himself out of it, taking the alcohol and standing to set it on the counter. "Fucking hell, Potter, all you have to do is walk outside and I'm sure you'll find someone." 

When he turned around from setting the bottle down, Potter was there. Right there. 

"Isn't it kind of cold out, though? Never know, might find someone inside." 

"Are you flirting, Golden Boy?" 

Harry smiled. "No. Flirting is just all in good fun. No, I am quite seriously propositioning you." 

And Draco would never admit it, but in that moment, he wanted to melt. He hadn't thought about it in years, but he had in fact always found Potter to be rather attractive. And sure, maybe it would cross his mind for half a second when he saw Harry in those headlines sometimes, consider how nice he looked in his auror robes or at some charity event with a smile on his face. But it wasn't like he had really actually considered it. Because what was the point. And now that Harry Potter was standing in front of him "quite literally propositioning" him, Draco was feeling a little lightheaded. 

"Why?" He asked. 

Harry lifted a single shoulder. "Why don't you pick the answer that makes you feel the best? You want me to say it's just because I'm here and you're here? Want me to blame it on the alcohol? Want me to say that I've always had a thing for you, ever since school?" He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Want me to tell you all about how I've touched myself before thinking about you? Or do you want me to say you're just a warm body and I've nowhere to go for the night?" 

Trying so hard to not fall into it, Draco met Harry's gaze. "What I want is the truth. Don't care what the truth is, really, but I hate being lied to, Potter." 

"Why? Seems like if I recall correctly, you have no qualms about lying." 

"I said I don't like being lied  _ to. _ " 

"Fair enough," Harry whispered. "Tell you what, you show me the way to the bedroom and we can fuck and in the morning we can both blame it on the alcohol and pretend it never happened unless I someday...stumble out your floo again." 

For a moment, Draco considered, hating himself every second that it was prolonged. Then, he glanced at Harry. "How drunk are you? I mean, really? Am I going to get thrown in Azkaban for taking advantage of the Saviour?" 

Harry laughed. "No drunker than you. And it doesn't ever have to leave this house. There are enough secrets here, what's one more?" 

Draco hesitated. 

"Just say no and I'll lay down on a sofa until I'm sober and I'll leave. Promise." 

"Fuck," Draco cursed. In a moment of pure terrible decision-making, he took Potter by the hand and walked them out of the kitchen and up the stairs and to his bedroom. 

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that he started having second thoughts. 

But then, before he even kissed him, Potter stripped off his shirt and all of Draco's second thoughts vanished. 

"Fuck, Potter, you're—“

He was going to comment on Potter's highly muscled torso, but he was cut off with, "Ah ah. No. Bedroom door closed so you don't get to call me by my last name anymore. I'm getting naked in front of you, you can at least do me the curtesy of not calling me Potter." 

Smiling, Draco said, "Aw, that's a shame. I thought we could do a little hate-fuck kind of thing." 

"I don't do those." Harry walked to Draco and brushed his hair back. "I prefer the kind of sex where my partner can't remember their own name cause I make them feel so good." 

"That's quite the talk, Potter. But can you live up to it?" 

He just smiled and then kissed Draco softly, his hands wandering lower to the hem of the jumper. 

Harry laid Draco down on the bed softly, removed his clothes slowly, kissed him deep until he was breathless. And through the entire night, Draco didn't call him Harry. Not once. It would just make things too real. 

When Draco woke the following morning, he was a little disoriented for a moment, wondering why his head was on someone's chest. But considering how long it had been since that had happened to him, it came back quickly. And he didn't know what to do about that, exactly. 

It wasn't like he could deny that last night had been wonderful or that he really wanted to do it again. But he couldn't just come out and say that. He couldn't even admit it to himself, after all. What would Potter think? 

Besides, hadn't they already agreed last night that they would wake up and blame it on the alcohol. 

And Draco knew it was stupid—because it was—but it had been so long since he had had anyone— _ anyone _ —in his life at all, but he didn't want to just let this go. He couldn't remember the last time he had even had physical contact with someone else, had been so isolated for so long. 

So no one needed to know if he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. 

The next time Draco woke up, it was to the sound of a pounding coming from outside the room. He jolted awake at the same time that Harry did, both of them looking around frantically until the pounding came again. 

Confused, they both looked at each other until it dawned on Draco: "I think that's someone at the front door." 

The room they were in was fairly close to the front of the house or they may not have heard it all, but the knocker was proving to be quite loud. And as Draco got out bed and tossed Harry his shirt before searching for his own clothes, he heard more than just the knocker. 

"Malfoy, open up!" 

Halfway dressed, both men paused, listening. "Does that sound like—“ Draco began. 

"I think that's  _ Ron. _ " 

Pulling on a pair of trousers, Draco said, "And why would Ronald Weasley be knocking on my door?" 

"Shit, what time is it?" 

After checking, Draco heard more and more cursing as Harry frantically finished getting his clothes on. 

They both left the bedroom, Draco leading the way to the front door, ignoring Weasley's knocking and shouting. 

Harry explained, "I was supposed to be at the Burrow two hours ago; they're probably all worried and Ron's my auror partner so he cast this spell that can show him where I'm at and it showed up as here and obviously I have no rational reason to be here so—“

" _ MALFOY! _ " 

Draco threw open the door and stared Weasley down, as much as the sun made him want to shut his eyes and the door. 

Ron looked angry and out of breath and stared past Draco to Harry as his face changed to confusion. 

"What the hell?" Ron asked. 

"Sorry, Ron," Harry started, walking around Draco. "I got drunk last night and stepped out in the wrong floo. Couldn't apparate, out of floo powder, no sobering potion, long story." He came to stand next to his best friend, facing Draco. "But Draco here was kind enough to let me sleep on a couch. It was just a late night and I didn't set any sort of alarm. Just woke up. All good here." 

He nodded to Draco. "Thank you for courtesy, Draco. We will now get off your property and I hope you have a Merry Christmas." 

Without missing a beat, he took a bewildered Ron by the arm and guided him down the road and off of the Manor property and side-alonged him off. But not before tossing a casual smile over his shoulder. 

Draco stared at the spot they disappeared from, wondering what had just happened. They didn't have a chance for goodbye or to talk at all about what happened. But Potter had called him by his first name. And who knew what kind of questions Weasley would ask later. 

In a daze, Draco shut the door. 

__________

Standing in front of the Burrow, Harry let go of Ron's arm. 

"Look, I know it's kind of awkward that you found me at Malfoy's," Harry started. "So how about you just say I overslept and don't add any more details. This doesn't need to be the talk of Christmas." 

Ron looked at him with his mouth open. "Harry, I hope I only have to have this conversation with you once because it is not going to be fun and I don't want to have it again. But there are a few things I have to say. Firstly, I can't believe you would lie to me." 

"When did I lie?" 

Ron took a step back, clearly offended. "You just randomly stumbled out in Malfoy's floo? Harry, you clearly just woke up and your clothes obviously spent the night on the floor and not on you based on how they're wrinkled. Malfoy had sex hair and you smell like—Well, you smell like you should go back to Grimmauld Place and take a quick shower and then come join us all. And you're calling him Draco? So tell me the truth, Harry. Right now. As your best friend, I deserve that much. Right now, Harry." 

Harry stayed quiet, not knowing what he should say first. He didn't want to lie, but where to start. 

Nearly yelling, Ron said, "Did you sleep with him, Harry?" 

Harry closed his eyes. "Yes." 

"What the  _ fuck,  _ Harry?" He shook his head and walked away before quickly coming back. "How long?" 

"What?" 

"How long?" 

"Ron, I swear last night was the first time I've ever slept with Malfoy." 

Ron crossed his arms. "Okay, well, how about how long have you known you're gay without telling your best friend?" Harry was shocked, but he didn't say anything. "I know it's completely up to you when you want to tell people and who you want to tell, but I can't believe you didn't tell me. Did I do something that would make you think I would ever—“ He stopped, taking a few deep breaths and Harry could see he was tearing up. 

"You know what," Ron said. "Why don't you go get cleaned up because you smell like a fucking—you smell like alcohol and sex, Harry. And I'll stall and tell everyone you were drinking last night and overslept and you're gonna shower and head over and we can talk about this later." He started to walk away. 

"Ron—“ Harry said, starting after him. 

But he was waved off. "Later, Harry. It's okay, mate. We'll talk later." 

Just as he reached the front door, Ron stopped and turned, hand on the door knob. "Harry, I love you. You're my best friend and absolutely nothing is ever going to change that. I'm just a little hurt and it's Christmas and I don't think either of us really wants to get into this right now. I love you, mate. I'll see you in a few." 

After Ron disappeared through the door, Harry stood stunned for a few moments. He hadn't known that it was that obvious. And if he was being honest with himself, the fact that he hadn't told Ron had been eating at him for quite a while. 

He had had that muggle boyfriend for a while and the entire time, he had wanted so badly to introduce him to Ron and Hermione. But he never had and he could never put his finger on why. 

It wasn't like he thought that they were homophobic, necessarily. It's just...well, sometimes no matter how sure you are, you can never be sure, can you? And he didn't want anything to change. 

And then the picture had come out and Harry had a talking to by some Ministry higher-ups and that had officially put men out of Harry's life for a long time. He had just tried to ignore that part of himself. Which, of course, led to him being alone and not dating anyone for a really long time. 

With a sigh, he apparated home. 

Moving quickly, he showered and changed and grabbed his presents for everyone before apparating back to the Burrow. 

When he walked in, no one appeared like anything was wrong and everyone was very welcoming. They had waited for him to exchange gifts and now they all talked together like one, big family. 

But Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Ron the entire time. He didn't know what he would say. And he didn't know what Ron was feeling. The worst thing was, given time to explain Harry wouldn't know what to say. 

Luckily, no one noticed anything was wrong with him or any sort of tension between him and Ron. But then the day turned into the evening and things started to wind down and people started to head home. 

And Hermione came up to Harry and asked him to come back with her and Ron and the kids. Spend some time together after putting the kids to bed. 

"I, uh," Harry started, glancing around to make sure no one could hear. "I'm not actually sure if that's a good idea, Hermione." 

She looked confused. "Why's that?" 

"Well, Ron and I...I think we might be having some sort of fight. I don't know—I'm not sure." 

Hermione just laughed. "Of course not, silly. You two are best friends. In fact, it was Ron who told me to invite you over." She put a hand on his shoulder, oblivious to the fact that his stomach dropped at her words. "So you are coming, right? Won't take no for an answer. We haven't spent some time together just the three of us in a while. Look, I'll put the kids to bed and give the two of you some time to just relax and talk as best friends, and then the three of us can have a few drinks and just catch up." 

Without waiting for him to answer, Hermione walked away, starting her round of goodbyes with everyone who was still present. 

And Harry found himself with his arm looped in Hermione's as they walked out the door. And side-alonged away without anyone asking him if he wanted to go or not.

It took less than a minute for her to leave him and Ron alone. Sitting there. At the kitchen table. Neither knowing where to begin. 

Eventually, it was Ron who broke the silence. "Harry, I'm sorry for being upset earlier." 

"No, Ron, you have every right to be upset." Harry found himself on the verge of tears, not wanting anything other than for everything to be okay between him and his best friend. 

"No, no. You have every right to tell whomever you want and whenever you want. It's entirely up to—“

Harry reached across the table to Ron. "I wanted to tell you. I just..." He leaned back in his chair, trying desperately to hold himself together. "I don't know. I don't know why I didn't. Especially when I had wanted to so bad. Ron, I had a boyfriend. A nice one, too. But..." 

And so, with a sigh, Harry launched into the full tale. He told Ron everything—he started at the beginning of the relationship and how they met and moved through the months of dating and hiding being a wizard from his boyfriend and hiding having a boyfriend from all his wizard friends. And how exhausting it was. 

And then, of course, the photo. And the Ministry.

Ron got out of his chair when he heard that bit and began pacing around the kitchen. It was just when he was in the middle of cursing every department individually that Hermione walked back in the room. 

"Ronald," she chided. "What is going on?" 

In what was practically a single breath, Ron said, "Apparently, our best friend has been bisexual for years and he dated a really nice muggle boy for several months and a picture with them kissing in the background got out and  _ the Ministry spoke to Harry about how he should stay in the closet! _ " 

Hermione just blinked. 

While Ron kept fuming, off somewhere in his own head and looking like he was going to smash some furniture, Hermione took the seat at the kitchen table that he had vacated. 

"I'm glad that you're telling us now," was what she started with. And suddenly, that was it for Harry. He couldn't handle it anymore and burst into tears. 

Immediately, both of his friends were at his side. 

After a few minutes of crying followed by some deep breaths, Harry wiped a hand across his face. 

"I love you both," he said. 

"We love you too, Harry," Hermione said, a comforting hand on his arm. 

And now that Harry was done, Ron burst into tears and threw his arms around his best friend. "I love you, too, Harry. I love you so fucking much, mate. I can't believe that you had to deal with that and stayed in the closet for so many years and I can't believe what I said to you earlier today on top of all of that and—“

Harry cut him off, prying his best friend off of him. "Ron, it's okay." 

"It is  _ not _ okay and I—“

Again, Harry stopped him. The two hugged again and then Ron seemed to have himself under control. 

Ron sat back down and the three all took a moment to themselves before Hermione broke the silence. 

"I feel like I'm missing something here," she began. "What were you saying earlier today, Ron? What prompted that? Did you find out? Where were you this morning, really, Harry?" 

Harry's eyes widened and he didn't know what to say. Quickly, he glanced at Ron. 

While Harry and Ron would both say that Hermione was their best friend and so incredibly important to them both, it was common knowledge with everyone that Harry and Ron had a bro-type bond that was so different than anything they had with Hermione. And so, as they looked at each other, an entire conversation passed. 

With one look at his best friend, Ron knew that Harry was panicking and didn't know what to say. Admitting to Ron that he slept with Malfoy because he had been caught was one thing, but admitting it to Hermione was slightly different. But one look at  _ his _ best friend and Harry was assured what he had known as soon as Hermione opened her mouth: it never was a good thing to lie to Hermione Granger. Not even the kind of lie where all you did was leave details out. 

Looking like he was desperately trying to hold it in, Ron said in one rush of breath, "Harry slept with Malfoy last night," before setting his head down on the table with a groan. "I'm sorry, mate, I tried, but she's my wife." He lifted his head. "Do you know what I would have to deal with if she found out on her own and then found out I already knew and didn't tell her? I'm sorry, mate. Had no choice." 

With a somber nod, Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I understand. You can't be blamed." 

"I'm sorry," Hermione interjected. "Ignoring whatever  _ that _ just was because I'm highly offended and we will be circling back around to it, can we go back to the part where  _ Harry _ slept with  _ Malfoy? _ Surely you don't mean Draco Malfoy." 

"Oh, no," Harry said, deadpan. "Not that Malfoy. I slept with Lucius." 

Harry and Ron both bust out laughing together, but Hermione didn't seem as amused and they both quieted down when they saw her face. Ron cleared his throat. "Sorry, 'Mione." 

Hermione just waited with eyebrows raised for an explanation until eventually Harry just sighed. "For the millionth time, I got out in the wrong floo cause I was drunk and I threw up in his bathroom and he was also drunk so apparating anywhere was out and he didn't have any floo powder or sobering potions and so I spent the night and we ended up sleeping together. It's not that complicated." 

"I'm sorry," Hermione began. "Did you say you stepped out in his floo?" 

"Yeah. Didn't mean to, but." 

"Well, that can't be right." 

Harry and Ron exchanged a look before both speaking at the same time: "What do you mean, can't be right? I was there!" "Oh, so you're saying Harry's a liar and that he didn't step out in the floo? How else did he get there?"

"Okay, okay," Hermione held out her hands to calm them down. "I'm just saying that the Ministry shut down all the floos at the Manor."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, Draco said he thought that too. But I stepped out in Lucius' old study." 

Now, Hermione looked especially intrigued. "Really? Because I would be sure that if they were going to forget a floo, it wouldn't be the one in the most investigated room in the house." 

"You never know! Maybe everyone just assumed someone else already did it." 

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm sure of it. They wouldn't have forgotten that." 

"Well then what exactly are you suggest—“ Harry stopped as Hermione stood and walked into the other room. He turned to Ron. "I can't believe she hasn't gotten better at this as the years have gone on. She just gets an idea in her head and stands up and walks out, assuming we know what she wants from us." 

"Well, come on!" Hermione said from the other room so the two stood and followed her. 

The three stood there in front of the floo and Hermione picked up the container of floo powder from the mantle and held it out to Harry. 

He looked at her confused until she explained: "I want you to try it again. Try going to the Manor." 

"What good'll that do?" Ron asked. "He'll just show up and Malfoy'll probably get the wrong idea about last night or something and—“

"Oh, would you just try it?" Hermione snapped. "And here, take some extra powder for the way back." 

Rolling his eyes, Harry took what Hermione gave him. As he stepped into the floo, he looked to Ron. "We both know it's easier to just do as she says and get it over with. I'll be doing it either way." 

"Malfoy Manor."

__________

After Harry left, Draco didn't really know what to do with the rest of the day. It was Christmas. 

Well Merry Fucking Christmas. 

It was the one day of the year that he visited his father. Not wanting to dwell on it, Draco made quick work of it like it was a chore and returned home, knowing he would spend the rest of the evening trying to push it out of his mind. 

The second he got back from Azkaban he wanted nothing more than to get out of the clothes that he was wearing. The dementors everywhere and the interaction with his father always left his skin feeling like it was covered in ice-cold cobwebs. 

Upon entering his room, he stopped for a moment, staring at the bed. 

The bed that he had fucked Harry Potter in last night. 

He still couldn't decide if it was wonderful or if he hated himself for it. (Or hated himself for thinking it was wonderful). On the one hand, he hadn't done anything with anyone in so long and it had been so nice. Not even just the sex, but to just touch someone and be touched by someone. Just to feel someone else's living skin on yours. It was transcendent. 

And the sex wasn't bad either. 

But the fact still remained that it was Harry Potter. There was no getting around that. 

Just as he started to pull his clothes off, he stopped, noticing on the bedside table: the necklace. The one that he had found last night. 

Quickly, Draco changed into something warmer. Less starchy. Every year, he considered going to visit his father wearing something that wasn't dress robes—just because he knew his father wouldn't approve. But he never had the balls to do it. He only visited his father once a year out of obligation and he wasn't looking for it to be a fight the entire time. 

After changing, Draco wondered about what to do. He left the room to go check on his potions, slipping the necklace in his pocket as he did so. 

He decided it would be a good idea to brew more sobering potions. 

Potion making was calming to him. Everything went together properly and made something beautiful. And it came naturally to him—just made things feel right. Unlike literally everything else in his life. 

He was nearly empty on orders of potions to fill for the various shops he supplied for—he had been incredibly busy in the past few weeks as everyone did their shopping, but now it was just restocking for a few places. Nothing difficult. He had to check on the few potions that had been brewing for weeks and ready the latest estimates of when they would be ready. But there wasn't really much to do. Which Draco found happening a lot these days. Because he just didn't really have much. At all. 

No hobbies, no family, no friends. Just himself and the Manor. 

Hence the bordering-on-alcoholism. 

In his defense, he hadn't really had a lot to drink at all in the last few weeks. When he had been so busy with orders, it gave his life a temporary sense of purpose and he loved it—he  _ thrived _ on it. But now that all that work was winding down and he was hit with Christmas, Draco was finding the lack of everything to be hitting him harder than usual. 

Uncorking a wine bottle, he thought to himself,  _ I should move. _

But he knew he never would. He could never give up the Manor. It would die with him. 

He poured a glass, but then set it down on the kitchen counter. Because something had been bothering him, had been nagging at him. 

Without hesitation for the first time in his life, Draco walked directly to the study and went in. 

He wasn't mistaken—he  _ knew _ the Ministry had shut down all of the floos. And there was no way that they would have forgotten this one. Not in this room. Officials and aurors spent months in this room. It just wasn't possible that they had forgotten about this floo. 

Pulling out his wand, Draco sat down in front of the floo and began to run some tests. And it became very quickly apparent through everything he tried that the floo was not connected to the floo network. So how in fucking hell did Harry Potter step through it? It just wasn't possible. 

As Draco stood, the necklace fell out of his pocket and he stared at it, having forgotten that it was there. Deciding that he was likely imagining things and should just go back to potion brewing, Draco picked the necklace back up and absentmindedly slipped it over his head. 

Just as he started to walk away, the floo once again spit out Harry Potter. 

"What the fuck?" Draco said. 

"Nice to see you, too," Harry remarked, crossing his arms. 

Draco stared, mouth slightly hanging open. He couldn't believe what he was seeing in front of him. He had  _ just _ confirmed that the floo was out of network and yet... 

And yet here was Potter. 

"Look," Harry began. "I know you're probably wondering why I'm here and I—“

Draco gasped. He had figured it out. 

Harry stared at him in confusion. "What? What is it?" 

But there was no way in hell that Draco was going to tell him. How could he? Besides the fact that it seemed so implausible...It would mean...

But how? It just didn't make sense. And yet, it was the only explanation. 

"Draco?" 

Snapping out of it, Draco responded. "Why do you keep calling me that? What, you think we have sex once and now you get to call me by my first name all the time? What are you even doing here? We agreed to blame it on the alcohol not you coming back later the next day. Now get out." 

In shock, Harry didn't know what to say for a moment. He hadn't really thought that Draco would feel that way. 

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled. "You're right, I...I don't know what I was thinking." 

Draco knew he was just reacting based on his panic, but he still regretted the words so fast. But what did that matter? What was one more in a life of regrets? 

"I'm sorry, Draco. For coming back, that is." He smiled. "But not for calling you Draco. I think we're past all that last-name stuff. I'll um...I'll see you around. Sorry to drop by with no warning." 

Harry turned and stepped into the floo and within moments, was gone. 

Which of course, meant that the floo did work. At least a little bit. 

" _ What the fuck?! _ " Draco yelled to the empty house. 

Well, at least now he had a purpose. 

He went back to the kitchen, poured the glass of wine down the sink and put the bottle away. He filled the kettle and set it on and pulled the necklace over his head, slamming it down on the counter. 

"What the fuck do you want?" He asked it. "What are you trying to do? Why are you fucking with my life? And of all the people to bring into it, why Potter?" 

After brewing some tea, Draco took the teacup and—holding it carefully—the necklace into the library. 

He set both down on a small table and crossed his arms, sighing at the rows of books. Now he just had to find one that would answer his questions. It was only midnight, after all. He had time. 

Draco rolled up the sleeves of his jumper and started walking up and down the shelves. 

__________

Harry woke up to little knees slamming into his chest. 

"Uncle Harry, wake up!" 

Groaning, Harry, wiped a hand across his face and blinked awake to see two-year-old Rose sitting on him and smiling. 

"Uncle Harry, you slept over!" 

Moving his arms around the child, Harry sat up, careful not to topple her over. "Yes, I did," he said. 

"Daddy's making breakfast." 

Running a hand through his hair, Harry smiled at the child in his lap. "Did you have a happy Christmas, Rose?" 

"Yes! I saw everyone at Christmas. Even you!" 

Harry laughed and picked the child up in his arms as he stood. "Let's go get some breakfast then, huh?" 

The two walked into the kitchen together and then Harry let her down. 

"Rose," Ron said. "I believe your mother wants you to get your teeth and hair brushed. She's in there with Hugo; she'll help you." 

"But I like it when Daddy does my hair," she complained. 

Laughing, Ron picked up his child and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Go on," he said, setting her back down and she ran off.

"So," Ron started as Harry leaned against the counter. "Thought about it any more? What you want to do?"

"What am I supposed to do, Ron? I like him, he told me to leave. Besides, it's not like anything could happen anyway. If the Ministry was upset about me being into men at all, imagine the uproar at me with that particular man." 

Ron shrugged, returning to the stove and starting on cooking some eggs. "So? Fuck 'em. Who needs the Ministry?"

"Ron, all of the adults currently in this household work for the Ministry." 

"You're bloody Harry Potter. What are they gonna do?" Pausing, he raised an eyebrow at Harry. "You know what I think?" 

Harry laughed. "What's that?" 

"You're using that as an excuse." Before Harry could even protest, Ron continued, looking back to the cooking. "You're scared. If you use what other people are going to think as the reason why you won't just ask him on a date, then you don't have to confront the fact that you don't want to ask him on a date because he'll probably say no." 

Again, Ron turned back to him. "Truth is, you're scared. It's been a long time since you've tried to have a relationship with someone. And on top of the vulnerability of intimacy and the fear of homophobia, you're even more scared by the fact that this is Draco Malfoy. I mean, it's Malfoy—how could you not be scared?" 

Finishing up the eggs and moving them to a plate, Ron said, "Here's what I want you to do, Harry. Now, normally, I wouldn't advise this because no means no but you two clearly have quite the history. I want you to ask him out three different times, three different ways, over three weeks. If he says no all three times, then let it go. Let him come to you. 

"But there's no chance in hell he's saying yes the first time. He'll likely think it's a joke. The second time, he'll want to say yes, but like you, won't be able to be vulnerable enough. The third time, though. He knows it's true from you and he knows he wants it and he's been regretting it ever since he said no the second time. And if he says no that third time, I wouldn't give up hope entirely. Not for a few months. Keep in touch lightly, keep the line open. I think he'll come around. I mean, he's probably just as desperate as you are." 

Harry just laughed. He didn't know how else to respond. In all honesty, Ron was probably right. He just had to go for it. He at least had to try. 

"So," Ron looked at him. "When are you gonna try the first time?" 

__________

It was December 28th. Harry stood outside the Manor and was staring at the knocker on the door. He raised his hand and grasped the metal, knowing how loud it resounded in the home as he brought it down. 

Time for the first try. 

Malfoy opened the door, looking slightly frazzled. "What do you want?" Okay, Harry amended his thought—a little more than slightly frazzled and more like he definitely had not slept in a long while.

And just like that, Harry was reconsidering his whole plan. Why would he ask for the first time when Malfoy was so clearly in a bad mood. 

No matter. He said he would try. And he knew he was going to be rejected this time anyway. 

Just as Harry opened his mouth, Draco shook his head. "Never mind, I don't care." Then, completely shocking Harry, he reached out and grabbed him by the elbow. "Get in." 

Harry was dragged through the door, the thick wood shut behind him, before he could say a word. Even utter a single sound. 

To add to that, before Harry could think of anything to say, Draco was already walking off. 

He turned a corner, leaving Harry standing just inside the door. Then, his head came back around the corner. "Well, Potter, are you coming or not?" He disappeared again, but Harry could hear his voice as he followed. "I need that auror brain of yours." 

"Oh?" Harry felt himself becoming less and less nervous as he walked. "I thought if I recalled correctly, you were infinitely smarter than me and wouldn't take my opinion on anything." 

"Yes, well, I do generally have better knowledge in most subjects than you. But this is one thing that you might be useful for. Whereas I am definitely better acquainted with Dark Magic, you know better how to combat against it." 

Now Harry was starting to get worried as he followed Draco around a corner into what must have been the library. 

Draco waved Harry over to a table that had multiple books spread across its surface. 

Once Harry was standing next to him, Draco started. "This object has some sort of spell on it," he said, indicating a necklace on the table. Instictelely, Harry reached for it, only to have his hand slapped away by Draco. "Really, Potter? Are you downright stupid? Have how you survived as an auror? How did you win the war? I just told you this object is enchanted and you reach for it?" 

"Right," Harry said. He did feel kind of stupid, actually. "Well, to be fair, you didn't say it was a  _ curse _ ." 

Draco crossed his arms. "That's because I don't know if it's a curse or not, scarhead. Its magical signature is wonderfully convoluted. I can't make sense of it. I've spent the last three days on it. Barely had any sleep." 

As much as Harry wanted to just cut to it and ask Draco out, he was quickly settling into auror mode. "What's its origin?" 

"Family heirloom." Then, because of the sound Harry made in response, Draco added, "On the Black side. So, a little more morally ambiguous." 

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering what that could mean.

"Well, you know," Draco said, raising a shoulder. "You look back in the lineages, the Malfoys were fairly even across the board as being Dark Wizards. The Blacks, a little more of a mixed bag. There's quite the difference between my two aunts, for example. But you know that already. I was told that this particular heirloom was given to Ursula as a gift from her sister-in-law, Isla." 

"You know I live in Grimmauld Place, right? Well, there's a tapestry of the Black family tree there and I don't remember any Isla?" 

Draco nodded. "She married a muggle." 

"Ah." She must have been burnt off the tapestry by Walburga. "So if it was supposedly created by Isla to give to Ursula, something tells me it likely wasn't created with malicious intent. That is, unless she was trying to get back at her family for ousting her or something." 

"It was a wedding present. A 'welcome to family.' Therefore, given when Isla was still part of the family. As the story goes, it was then passed from mother to daughter to be a gift for the daughter to give to her sister-in-law, when she should have one. So Ursula gave it to her daughter, Belvina, who gave it to her sister-in-law Violeta Bulstrode. Daughter Cassiopeia gave it to sister-in-law Irma Crabbe. Daughter Walburga gave it to sister-in-law Druella Rosier. And that's where it stopped. Because my grandmother, Druella, had three daughters. So no sister-in-law to give it to. Instead, my grandmother gave it to my mother, instead of offering to Bellatrix. Apparently it caused quite the family fight. But my mother got it because she married. So considering it's been a wedding gift passed down, I don't think it has malicious intent, no." 

Harry was impressed. "Did you look at some sort of family tree for that?" 

Draco shook his head. "No, my mother told me it was a wedding gift meant to be passed from mother to daughter to sister-in-law. And I know my family tree, Potter, I'm not an animal. It's hanging in about three different places in the Manor and I was forced to memorize it as a child. Both sides. It'll never leave me."

Crossing his arms, Harry looked back to the necklace. "Well, this is just one theory, but. It's been passed down for many generations in that method. Been quite a few years. Your mother—or one of her sisters—should have passed it on to an in-law. And instead of that happening, it is now in your hands. Sometimes enchanted objects get used to a pattern and can begin to exude their magic when that pattern has been disrupted. It's not that they necessarily have a will, but it is attempting to get back to the only life its known." 

Nodding, Draco stared at the necklace a moment. "So you think that's what's happening?" 

"Honestly, yeah. You could get a curse breaker in to look at it, but I don't think there's much anyone can do. You can put in a diffuser box so that its magic won't reach out and effect you. Because it could. But other than keeping you up trying to figure out what's strange about it, it doesn't seem to be effecting you. Don't know how it would, exactly." 

Quietly, like he was talking to himself and not saying anything he had intended for Harry to hear, Draco muttered, "Oh, I've got a fucking hunch." 

Harry was absolutely thinking that Draco should probably get out of the house more. 

"So, actually," Harry started and Draco's attention jumped back to him, like he was confused why he was still here. "While I am of course happy to help, this is not why I came here today." 

"Oh." Draco's face turned sour. "Right. Why are you here?" 

Here it was. It was okay. He was expecting a no. He would try again next week. And one last time the week after that. 

"I was wondering if you want to go out on a date sometime." 

No matter what Harry had been expecting—in all of the scenarios he had run through from best to worst case—he had decidedly not been expecting this. 

Draco grabbed the necklace and with a crazed look in his eye, he walked over to the wall on the far side of the library where a large family tapestry was hanging on the wall and he held up the necklace, shaking it at the wall. 

"You think this is funny? Huh? Which one of you? Which one of you is fucking with me? Tell me what you want! Get the fuck out of my life!" 

Rushing across the room, Harry put his hands on Draco's shoulders and turned him away from the wall, shushing him softly all the way. 

"Okay, okay." He carefully took the necklace out of Draco's hands. "Shh, shh." 

"Don't you see, Potter? It's the necklace!" Draco wagged a finger at him. 

He tried to get Draco to look at him, but he refused, looking all around the room until his eyes landed on the necklace Harry had discarded on the floor. "When was the last time you slept?" 

Draco pointed at the piece of jewelry. "Try to fuck with my life all you want—I’ll destroy you. I'll melt you down and you won't  _ have _ any magical will to impose upon me. You hear me?!" 

"Alright, yup," Harry said to himself and quickly steered Draco out of the library and all the way to his bed. 

Once he had shut the bedroom door behind them, Harry made Draco lay down. And once he had him lying down, it wasn't long before Draco calmed down. 

"Potter, I—“ He began, but Harry just shushed him and covered him up with the duvet. 

Harry sat down on the bed next to him and smoothed Draco's hair. "Why don't you just get some rest? I'll be right here when you wake up." 

It only took a little more protesting that Harry had to fend off before Draco's exhausted body took over and he fell asleep. 

__________

When Draco woke up, he remembered immediately the scene in the library and he wanted to climb to the roof and jump off. But instead, he gathered himself and—after checking in the mirror that he was presentable, should Potter have been true to his word that he would stay—he made his way down to the kitchen. 

Where, of course, Harry was just setting the kettle on. 

"Oh, good. You're up." Harry smiled at seeing him in the doorway. "Are you feeling better after a little rest?" 

Draco cringed. "Sorry. Really, that was...embarrassing." 

To his relief, Harry just smiled. 

"It's okay. I don't take my back offer to take you on a date." 

"Sorry, what?" Draco asked. "I thought in all my insanity I had still made myself clear. The necklace did this." 

Harry laughed. "I don't know what you mean." 

Feeling an overwhelming sense of  _ oh no, _ Draco took a deep breath. "Potter, when you stepped out of the floo that was supposed to have been by all accounts shut down, I had just found that necklace. And I had just put it on. You really don't think that's a coincidence, do you? It's an enchanted object and it's been spurned because it hasn't been a part of a marriage recently. And then you get thrown out my floo and we fuck.  _ The two of us fuck. _ You can't possibly call that a coincidence." 

Suddenly, Harry felt very cold and he didn't know what to say. 

He had plenty of experience with enchanted objects—both benign and malicious. And, either way, what Draco said made sense. It wasn't like he had really thought about Draco a lot in the years since he had seen him last. And no matter the feelings Harry thought he had discovered in the last few days, if Draco had just put it on for the first time right as Harry was inexplicably thrown out of a floo that was not supposed to be connected to the floo network...

It probably did make more sense than the two of them falling in love. 

And right there, standing in the kitchen at the Malfoy Manor with Draco looking at him all condescending and the kettle just starting to whistle, Harry realized that it was true: in crazy few days, he had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy. 

Maybe it was easier to admit that it may have just been the result of an enchanted piece of jewelry. 

Harry cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah, no, you hadn't made that clear before. I'll just, um—" The kettle got louder. "I'll just go." 

As he walked by, Harry set the kettle off and then continued right on out the doorway. 

"Wait, Potter," he heard behind him, but he walked right through the front door and didn't stop walking until he was off the grounds and could apparate away. 

Standing in the doorway, Draco watched him disappear. 

" _ Shit! _ " 

__________

Well, life was back to normal. Potions orders were rolling in and Draco was back to brewing and sending them off and getting orders and brewing. Such was life. 

He should have just kept his mouth shut. Necklace or no necklace, maybe he could have at least had sex with Potter again. Not because he was looking for sex, but because he just wanted to touch someone. Anyone, really. 

But no, maybe not just anyone. There was something special about Potter, wasn't there? The two of them...he would know what to expect. Harry knew who he was, probably better than anyone else alive, even given how little they actually knew each other. And Draco was never going to bullshit Harry, they both knew that much. 

All those years, they had always made each other stronger. Sharper. They were, quite franky, sort of perfect for each other. 

If things had been different...

But they weren't, were they? And there was no chance of them ever being different. 

He had spent nearly all day putting the highly detailed and painstakingly difficult near-finishing touches on three batches of felix felicis he had been brewing for months. It was a good potion to make in threes—at least. Because one was almost guaranteed to fuck up and the second probably as well. So you made a third, hoping that that one would turn out right and you could fill the order. And if you got more than one out of it, you could always sell it for quite the interesting dollar amount. 

Sitting up, Draco wiped the sweat off his brow. So far, all three were perfect. But there was no telling really, yet. He would see in the morning. They would either brew to that perfect golden, or they would turn into pink tar. He'd have to wait and see. 

After hours hunched over those three cauldrons, he knew he needed to get up, at least for a while. And so he just walked around the Manor, stretching his legs and letting his eyes rest. Had it been spring already, he would have walked around in the garden, but it was still fucking freezing, so he walked the dreary and cold halls. 

Of course, he found himself in the library. With the necklace at his feet. 

Unsure what he should do with it, he bent and picked it up. It was January 14th. Weeks had passed since he had seen Potter. And he had managed to avoid this necklace that entire time. But now, it seemed, it had caught up to him. As he had known it would. 

Holding it in front of him, he stared at it and in his heart, decided what he was going to do with it. 

He would give it to Andromeda. She was the only woman in the direct line of the necklace. Maybe she could give it to the wife of that grandson of hers. If he ever married a woman, that is. But she would find something to do with it. She would appreciate it, he was sure. 

In a moment of overwhelming sadness for his mother, Draco pressed the necklace close to his heart. And when he opened his eyes, he wasn't standing in the library. 

It was spring. He was standing in the garden. By his mother's flowers. And his mother was there, tending to them. 

As he watched, she looked up and saw him. "Ah, Draco dear." She came and hugged him and Draco was speechless. He knew this must have been a vision, but he couldn't help how he threw his arms around his mother and held her so tightly. He couldn't help the tears.

He missed her so much. 

But she pulled back from him. "Darling, why are you crying?" 

"I just miss you, mum," Draco whispered. 

"Well, you have been away quite a while." She walked away from him, continuing talking while she returned to her flowers. "Whisked my lovely grandchildren away. I have to take a portkey to come to see their sweet little faces. And I know what you've said—you've said it a million times."

"What's that?" Draco asked. 

"Dear, I know you keep saying that now that your father's passed, I should come live with you and Harry and the kids, but I can't just leave the Manor. It's my home." 

Draco couldn't speak for a moment. "Harry?" 

Now, Narcissa looked to him, a little troubled but clearly hoping he was joking. "Your husband? That Harry? Or is there a different one we should be talking about? You want to talk about someone other than Harry Potter? My goodness, there's a first." 

She walked over to him with a smile. "Promise me something, Draco." 

"Anything," Draco said immediately. 

"When that daughter of yours, Lily Luna, is all grown up, you give her this necklace. Let her give it to the wife of one her brothers." As she spoke, she rested her hands on the necklace that was around Draco neck. And just as Draco looked down at it, he was back in the library. 

Not knowing what the fuck just happened, Draco knew it must have been a trick of the damned necklace's and he pulled out his wand. It wasn't going to be an easy process but many emotions had been stirred up by that trick and Draco poured all that energy into his spells. 

Thirty minutes later, the necklace had been stripped of all magic. It was just an ordinary necklace. Could be sold to a muggle and the Ministry wouldn't even bat an eye about it. It was thoroughly ordinary. No will of its own. Not anymore.

And Draco went to sleep, exhausted. 

__________

When Draco woke in the morning, he checked his potions. He found two lovely golden cauldrons of felix felicis and one cauldron of pink tar which he set cleaning. He bottled them and then made tea. Then, he returned to his potions and set to work on what he had to do for the day. 

It wasn't even midday when he realized that as he worked on every single potion, he had been thinking of Harry. 

He pushed that unpleasant thought aside and kept working. 

It was just getting dark in the sky when he realized that if his being drawn to Harry was an effect of the spell from the necklace, he would have felt a change when the spell was broken. 

And instead of pushing that aside, he cried. 

__________

Harry was just finishing drying the last of the night's dishes when there was a knock on his door. 

Putting the plate away, he walked down the hall, wondering who it was. Anyone who knew him well enough to drop by would use the floo and anyone who didn't would write first. 

Which is why when he opened the door to see Draco Malfoy, it sort of made perfect sense. 

What didn't make sense was why he was crying. 

"Draco, what's wrong?" 

Draco seemed too distraught to say anything, so Harry wrapped an arm around him and walked him in, closing the door behind them and walking Draco over until they sat down together on the couch. "Draco, what is it?" He asked. 

In response, Draco held out his hand before him, closed in a fist. 

"I don't understand, Draco." 

And then Draco opened his fist, leaving the necklace lying in his palm. 

Harry covered it with his own, muttering to himself, "Fuck it." 

"You know what, Draco," he started. "I don't care. I don't care if this necklace is the reason why I stepped out in your floo, I'm still glad I did. Draco, I really like you and I want to take you on a fucking date and I don't care if it's because of some enchanted piece of—“

"Look at it," Draco whispered. "I mean, really. Look at its magic." 

And so Harry pulled out his wand and did as he was asked. Then, he slowly looked up at Draco, confused. 

"Draco, it—“

"I took all the magic off of it. And I still really, really want to be with you." 

Harry began to smile. He would absolutely take that. 

He kissed Draco and Draco let the necklace drop to the floor. 

Pulling back slightly, Harry whispered, "I still really, really want to be with you, too." 

"So I didn't ruin it?" Draco whispered, his breath catching as he cried. 

"Absolutely not. I'm just glad you came back." 

"I am too." 

Running a hand through Draco's hair, Harry gave him one more kiss and then pulled away. 

"Now, Draco. Would you go on a date with me?" 

Draco laughed. "Yes, Harry." 

**Author's Note:**

> TW::::draco references an ex who physically assaults him after finding out he was a death eater  
> TW::::mention of lucius hitting draco when he was seven  
> ___
> 
> love is stored in the first use of the first name
> 
> do yall know that post that's like "tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit" "I'm not scared of you!!" or whatever. well then there's the one that did the illustration of that post w sokka w a gun and thats the energy im going for w draco and this necklace. hope you felt that.  
> ___
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Please feel free to leave a comment and/ or message me on [ tumblr ](https://www.shelvesuponshelves.tumblr.com)
> 
> I am also currently taking ficlet requests on [ tumblr ](https://www.shelvesuponshelves.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Again, this is a series of Trashy Tropes for this ship: the next installment will be an Only One Bed oooh!!


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